The Night of the Green Silver
by Sambev
Summary: COMPLETE. The lamp barely cast a glow in the tunnel, illuminating damp, fungus coated walls and the sleek red backs of roaches. He stopped to listen.
1. Chapter 1

(AN: Thanks to Apple for beta-reading for me.)

The Night of the Green Silver  
Chapter One

The lamp barely cast a glow in the tunnel, illuminating damp, fungus coated walls, the sleek red backs of roaches, and the occasional pair of rodent eyes and teeth that gnawed on cream colored bones. The lamp swung from a tight grip and threw inadequate light over a wide eyed face. The other hand held a silk handkerchief over his mouth and hid the disgusted convulsions of his Adams-apple as critter bodies popped under his boots. He stopped to listen.

Past the scuttle of little feet and little teeth, there was the distinct echo of another's heavy footsteps. He took a step and his toe found some bone, hidden by a dark rotten sleeve, and the sound of his gasp amplified off the stone. No, he couldn't sneak up on the target, but he could out run him. Gordon put the kerchief into his breast pocket with a resolved shudder and ran with the lamp held low and away.

The target looked back, seeing that he was followed with a grimace, and began to run as best he could. He disappeared around a corner that seemed like a dead end in the dim light. Gordon saw the tunnel end in time to put out his palm and repel himself into the turn. The wall was soft, humanly warm, and stuck between his fingers.

"Stop right there!" He called breathlessly, and surprisingly, the other did and turned to face the agent. Relieved, Artemus fished for the handcuffs in his coat pocket as he jogged. He was close enough to look down on the other when the man suddenly disappeared from sight with the crunch of tearing stone and grime. The gaping black hole expanded around Artemus before he thought to turn and run. He saw nothing but blackness becoming blacker, and it swallowed him up.

The lamp shattered and the flame died with a wet burst, snuffing out Gordon's vision, which made his fall more startling. He screamed when he hit the ground. Cold water splashed around him and stuck like a film on his skin. There was only a few inches of the gently pulsing water, and he struggled on slick stones to his feet.

A quiet sound, starting as a wheeze, grew to an amused and pained laughter, manic and unceasing.

"Loveless?" Gordon gasped, groping towards the noise with outstretched arms. His fingers bumped into damp fabric and he hauled the dwarf to his feet. "You're under arrest." He felt vainly about his feet with his free hand for the handcuffs but knew they were lost in the rubble.

"We'll both die first. Do you believe that anyone will ever think to look beneath their feet?" He giggled; it was a detached sound in the darkness.

"This doesn't seem like a very good escape plan Loveless. I'm shocked, I've been giving you too much credit… I don't suppose you have a match?" Artemus' own bodiless voice was heavy with a warning tone. There was no light to catch the worry in his eyes as he looked up the way they had fallen.

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Something crawled over his boot. It seemed heavy and fat, more than a rat should weigh. Artemus kicked it with a fed-up grunt.

"Well, for heaven's sake don't kick in onto me, Mr. Gordon!" Loveless' voice said out of the darkness. The rats weren't the only thing Artemus was fed up with.

"You hush. Don't forget you're under my custody."

"Don't act like you're in control here when you clearly are not! I'd say we're in an unwilling truce."

"I'd say, not so much." Gordon snapped back, even though he knew the doctor was right. He ran his hand over his face to see if his eyes were open, but even then he wasn't quite convinced. "Do you suppose it would be better to walk up stream or down?" He grumbled, tilting his head against a cool and barely shifting draft.

There was no answer. Artemus swallowed, and it sounded ridiculously loud in his ringing ears. "Loveless?"

"Hmm."

Gordon was relieved, then annoyed because of it.

"It would seem up, after all, it will take us up. And, unless I've become completely disoriented, it takes us back in the direction you chased me."

"But it may just lead us to some spring and a dead end. I don't recall any water in the tunnel we fell from or even any evidence of water."

"I think you're just being contentious." Loveless shifted. Some pebbles rolled into the water and he groaned. "But I think you're right… But if we go down stream it may lead us to another drop, an underground lake perhaps. We would drown."

"It may connect to whatever exit you were running towards though."

Loveless giggled. "Yes, and we will drown below it."

"Then which way?" Artemus sighed, speaking mostly to himself.

"First, I imagine we should find out if this is a man-made tunnel or a natural one. Can you feel the wall? Is it stone?"

Artemus reached out his arms, stepping slowly to the side. "Ugh. Yes, beneath the sludge I think so."

"Can you reach the ceiling?"

He got close to the wall, stretching up and feeling nothing. Water splashed. "If I jump. It's definitely carved stone."

"No 'sludge?'"

There was a moment before Artemus answered. He could hear the little doctor breathing nearby. "No. That's bad. I think this tunnel fills with water. Darn it." There was another small splash. "Who knew this blasted labyrinth was here."

"You mean, who new there was such a lovely retreat beneath our very own capitol hill?"

"We're no where near Capitol hill."

Loveless chuckled darkly. "It's less than three days ride. Just one if you take a train." He waited around his "captor's" silence and continued. "We should go down I believe. Especially if there is flooding evidence. Don't you, Mr. Gordon?"

"I have to agree." He seized the back of Loveless' shirt after a few fumbling misses. "To Capitol Hill then. At your right, doctor, you will see the stunning Washington Monument, and my favorite local pub to the left."

"I'm not sure your humor is appropriate here Gordon."

"Ha." He tightened his grip on the dwarf's collar and held his other arm into the darkness as they followed the stream down.

They hadn't walked far before the doctor's limp had brought them to a stop. Artemus could feel the uneven gait and hear the sharp hisses of pain.

"I have to rest."

"What's wrong with your leg?"

"Just a small sprain, maybe, from the fall."

"Can you go on?"

"What if I can't?" The doctor asked sarcastically. "I heard you smirk."

Gordon huffed a silent laugh. "Which leg is hurt?"

"The left. Ow." There was a huffed apology, small splashes and shifting pebbles as Artemus moved to Loveless' left and took his upper arm, pulling up for his captive to move the weight off the sprain.

"You can walk now." He said dryly and started forward again. They walked, stumbled, on in silence for awhile, twitching at unknown squeaks and stretching their eyes wide for light. Moisture dripped around them, chilling Artemus. His outstretched hand was half balled, reluctant to find anything.

"Hey!" Artie barked warningly. "No funny stuff Loveless, or I'll toss you to the rats." He slid his gun carefully out of his belt, although firing it blind would be asinine, and more so when it might cause the tunnel to collapse on them.

"What Mr. Gordon? I wasn't doing anything funny at all. Did you hear something?"

"I felt something. It must have been, ugh! A cockroach, another one."

"And you blamed me." Loveless heard a slapping sound and smirked. "I haven't felt one in a while. Maybe the darkness doesn't agree with you, Mr. Gordon."

"Are you questioning my sensibilities? Don't." The threat was wasn't effective over the sounds of swatting.

"Fine, to be fair, I feel quite a lot of them. Actually, it does seem unusual."

Artemus felt the needle-like legs only on his exposed neck and face, and the shifting pressure in his hair. He shook his head and his free arm. He heard the sound of their round bodies falling into the trickle of water. "What I wouldn't do for a light right now."

"Well, stopping isn't going to make them go away. In fact I think we should go faster."

Artemus pulled his captive after him, sloshing his soaked boots through the unseen water. The beetles fell off him in a sheet when he brushed his hand over his chest and stomach. The doctor seemed unusually quiet, but maybe, like Artemus, he was afraid of opening his mouth when bugs were tumbling over his cheeks.

A roach landed on the side of his neck and he swatted at it, but his palm landed over long human fingers. He recoiled and spun towards it. Loveless protested and stumbled in his grasp. "What is it, Mr. Gordon?" He asked in irritation.

"Who else is down here Loveless?"

"No one is besides us two, or I wouldn't be hobbling along in these disgusting conditions with…"

"Be quiet." He whispered, crouching down. "Someone touched my neck. I believe it was one of your men. Buy why play games? Or is that a silly question to ask?"

"Why, indeed. Think, Mr. Gordon, think, why would I share my escape plans with anyone who could be captured and questioned? Ugh, I must sit."

Gordon reluctantly released Loveless' arm. It was true, he could hear every beetle, every rat, every breath he and the doctor took, so he would be able to hear another man. He shivered and put his hands in his pockets.

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The grasping fingers found his throat again, but Gordon was nervous and alert from Loveless' unsettling, rasping breaths, and struck back. His knuckles brushed a jaw line and found the soft flesh of a neck. There was a gurgling gasp and a splash.

"What's happening? Mr. Gordon?"

"Someone touched me, I told you, and I hit him!" He gasped nervously.

"Someone down here?" Loveless sounded doubtful. "I've heard no one, and I think you're delusional."

"Thank you." He snapped. "Look, he hasn't gotten back up, let's feel him out. He must have a light." Gordon crouched, stretching a hand for the body. He found a booted foot and followed it up to the face. "What on earth…"

"What is it?"

"This isn't one of your tricks Loveless?"

"Certainly not. Or I would be off watching from somewhere cozy."

Gordon jolted when Loveless grabbed his hand accidentally, feeling for the man, and apologized in a grunt. "My goodness." He chuckled somewhat nervously. "Well, everyone is built differently. Check his pockets."

There was nothing in the stiff, grimy trouser pockets. He searched quickly, reluctant to touch, and wiped his hands roughly on the sides on his trousers when he finished. "I can't leave him here." He mumbled.

"You can. He tried to strangle you for heaven's sake! But make sure he won't be getting up. I imagine you have a knock out powder."

There was a pause and a vague sound of his drumming fingers. "Amongst other things." He warned, fishing for the ring in his pocket that held the drug and reached for the man's face again. His hand slipped into the water, and his fingers found the sharply pebbled floor, probably full of rat bones.

He swept his hands in a wide circle and found nothing except one crawling wall and Loveless.

"Ow, excuse me, Gordon."

"Be quiet, and listen."

"…We'll be better off if we keep moving."

Loveless struggled to his feet, and barely kept on them even with Artemus' arm to hold him up. "Gosh darn this ankle."

"I am not carrying you, Loveless. But perhaps you have some sort of flying craft to help you." He quipped.

"Do not infuriate me Gordon, or I swear I'll…"

"Yep, I'm sure. Does this water seem deeper to you?"

"It is," Loveless answered dryly. "I've thought so for a while." He limped along, and the slow pace was maddening when Artemus was barely suppressing the urge to run. "I can't swim, actually. But I suppose that hardly matters to you, unless you have some grievance with being trapped in here alone."

"Unless I have some grievance with chasing you down here and never seeing you face your court date."

"Seeing me hang you mean? You realize I have the means to kill you?"

"Ditto. Although I doubt your trinkets work after getting nice and wet like they did."

"And what about yours Mr. Gordon? Does that gun you're holding still work after getting nice and wet?"

Gordon's grip tightened, and he looked down, willing himself to see the doctor. He suddenly wondered if Loveless was seeing him.

Water was drizzling into the tops of his boots. "Are we below the exit you planned to take?"

Loveless was chuckling, mostly dead weight in Gordon's grip. "Seeing as I have no map…"

"Estimate then!"

"Yes, I'd say we're nearly there. Although you realize I'm nearly up to my waist. Perhaps if you let me carry the gun… Ah, now I see why you and West tend to crack these types of jokes when you're under my… hospitality. It's nerves."

Gordon nodded and shrugged. "Do you have someone waiting for you? Any people?"

"My secret. But no, dear Antoinette is elsewhere."

"What?"

"I said…"

They were shouting suddenly over a roar and only just seemed to realize it. "Can we collapse the tunnel behind us?" Loveless yelled, "It might block the water."

Artemus half released the dwarf, who squeaked, now nearly floating, and bit his lip. "I thought of that! But if we have to turn back."

"We can't, I know!"

"How about the ceiling ahead of us? To make a new way up?"

"Brilliant! We shall be crushed instead of drowned!"

The water shifted then surged forward, knocking Artemus' feet out from under him. Loveless shrieked and slipped from his gasp, he pawed at Gordon's sleeve for a moment and slipped away.

Gasping, Artemus just focused on floating as he was beaten down by the rush of water. His back grazed the top of the tunnel and he swung towards it, trying to get his head out of the water. It didn't matter if he could swim, he was no better off than Loveless. A body, larger than his own, crashed into him and knocked the air from his lungs.

Choking and disoriented, Gordon grabbed the body. It thrashed in his grasp, shaking one arm free. They collided into the wall. Dizziness or something else caused a painful flash of white light. Artemus grabbed again, feeling the person's face against the current. He trembled, sucking in more black water when his fingers brushed over sharp teeth. The thing had stopped fighting back. Gordon grabbed the instrument circling its head and ripped it away before he lost his hold from clumsy faintness and washed away.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

He hit the ground hard, landing half in some pool where his ribs struck the lip, and his legs fell into the cold water below it. Water spilled from his lungs. His heaving gasps echoed in the chamber. He lay there for a long time just breathing, his eyes closed against the rancid water beating his back, and he didn't think to open them.

The echo from the pouring water traveled further up where he was now than in the tunnels. The stream became a small waterfall drizzling behind him. He didn't remember the device in his hand until it sent a small bolt of electricity, white and mesmerizing, up his arm.

Artemus yelped and dropped it instinctively. The small bolt outlining his arm and fingers stayed burned in his eyes. He groped for it again, tracing the edges. They were goggles, lined with sticky rubber. He found the warm metal coil and traced an odd mechanism around the strap. His heart fluttered in his throat.

Artemus shifted, looking around uselessly. He pulled himself up onto the edge. The slightly sloping lip disconcerted him; it suggested great depth, like a pit. Then he stood and took a few blind steps away from the water until he couldn't feel it splashing the backs of his legs. He held the goggles up to his face, careful not to let them touch his skin. They seemed like an odd thing for anyone to have; maybe a train engineer would use goggles, but not with wires attached.

There was nothing through the lenses but the still black canvas, dotted with the colored balls from his own retinas. He flicked the clump of metal and saw a flash of grey-green; a wide pool as far as he could see in three directions; wooden pillars, many broken; and wooden shelves extending up and out of sight. It all twisted and arched through the convoluted lenses, giving an imperfect picture of the cavern around him. Then it shocked him again and he dropped it with a curse.

His eyes ached from being held open. He didn't know what amazed him more, the cavern or the device. Feeling for it again, Artemus tied it carefully to his belt. He contemplated the brief image he had seen while he squeezed water from his clothing. Unless he was completely delusional, like Loveless said, there had been a ladder and a hoist, like type used in mines without a level entrance, one the far side.

The wall felt natural, with jagged stones and soft sweating fungus. The water had stopped again, and sharp, musical drips were the only sound beside his steps and his hand dragging along the wall. He stumbled several times on things that were light enough to skid away instead of making him fall. Some sounded like wood, others metal, but he wasn't going to chase them into the dark. Then his boot hooked something heavy, he swung his arms, gripped the wall with his hand and managed to twist and land on his backside instead of his face. A broken wrist or nose sounded more miserable than it ever had.

The object sounded fleshy. Fleshy, a shudder ran up his spine, but he reached out despite it. He felt a small rounded chest covered in ruined silk and buttons. The arm was limp in his hand, and the wrist cold beneath his fingers. Dead. He felt the neck to double check the pulse. Definitely dead. On a hunch, he felt for the face and found nothing.

The set of goggles he had found gave no more sparks or flashes although he tried to feel out and understand the wiring. But then, maybe it was for the best. They could give a big enough jolt to shock a man to death from what he'd seen, or thought he had.

Artemus fished out his handkerchief, wrung it dry, then smoothed the fine cloth out over his knee and set it carefully over Loveless' face, tugging the edges until it felt even. Maybe it was just the darkness making him over-emotional. Of course, there would be no one to do the same for him.

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The silence was somewhat of a security, although if he stopped and let it fall around him his jaw ached with growing terror like he was going to scream, or laugh, just to fill up the space. He hadn't noticed how many beams there were, although it seemed like a lot from what he remembered.

His fingers bumped into another, eight, and his nails sank into the soft wood. He listened, scrubbed his palms together and started again.

He wondered just how far up had they fallen from, and how much further up the surface was as he wiped a drop from his cheek. There was another pillar, and a second directly after it. Reaching down he felt a rung, but only broken ones when he reached up. There was no rubble at his feet. He felt the rungs again and noticed their mostly straight sawed edges.

The goggles flickered briefly, hopefully, but gave him nothing but a glimpse of his fingers against the lenses and his boots, made unfamiliar by the odd color. He held them up, and blew on the copper wires to dry them, but they didn't work again. The metal felt cold.

Feeling with sweeping arms, he found the rope. Dust came off at his touch and left a feeble string in his hands. "Artemus." He meant to say but whispered. "This is not your best idea." He shrugged. Likely, he would break his neck or his spine long before he had the chance to really regret it.

The wood groaned and seemed to bend slightly under his weight, but he couldn't be sure about that. He counted the steps, or what had been a step as he carefully balanced on the broken stubs. It may have stopped someone who was in a hurry, but Artemus had all the time in the world.

He counted past the thirties and paused, letting out a held breath that warmed the backs of his hands. He was chilled but not terrified. His grip was strong. Maybe if he could see how far from the ground he really was… Maybe not. The wood didn't seem so old. Maybe, he thought, his little swim had washed him to where Loveless planned to escape. And if that was the case, then he was only surprised that there wasn't a velvet lined lift waiting for him.

A small wisp of frigid air toyed with his hair and he twitched. Gordon laughed, half sighed, nervously.

"Is that you doc?" The voice still seemed far above, and echoed down to him with a shower of pebbles.

Artemus held his breath, cleared his throat carefully, "Who do you think, you clot!" Artemus cringed, pressing himself close to the ladder, and shook his head against his shoulder. A person would have to be a fool to fall for that, he thought, waiting for the bullets.

"Why didn't you call for the lift?" Came the quick reply.

"I expected it to be waiting for me of course!" His second try was better, but still practically worthless.

"I'll send it down now!"

There was a groan of wood and the dragging sound of chains that brought with them a great amount warm air. The warmth mixed with the cold and blew harshly down on him. Artemus looked up and began to see small silver beams of light.

The lift descended just in front of the ladder. He felt it before he saw it, and it caught his hand as it drew close. Artemus let go, falling with his hands and boots on the outside to slow him. His heart leapt into his throat as he watched the lift, rimmed with light, falling just above his head.

The contraption swung suddenly, as if released on one side. It caught his shoulder and kicked him away from the ladder. He hit the rocky ground again, not fast enough to hurt him seriously, but knock him off his feet. He skidded on his back towards the water. There was an echo of shouting, gunshots too, he thought, but both were drowned out when the lift crashed, followed by a cascade of dirt and stones and light.

Artemus scrambled clumsily up and out of the way, slipped on the pebbles and fell into the water. He shouted, startled when there was nothing beneath his feet the instant before breaking the surface.

"Loveless! Give yourself up!" An official sounding voice yelled. More silver light shined through with shifting yellow sunspots. It stunned him slightly, catching his brown eyes, but he looked away and heaved himself onto the shore again. Or tried to, something pulled and he slid back in. Distant shouts were drowned out by the splashing. He reached behind him, still holding onto the shore with the other, felt a small nose on a big face, like before, and broken teeth on a wide mouth.

Using the ledge for leverage he pulled in his arm and brought it back as a fist. The body fell but was clutching Artemus' jacket and dragged the agent away from the lip with it. Treading water, Artemus slipped out of the garment rather than fight and kicked for the shore.

After a moment that seemed too long, he thought he had become disoriented and was swimming the wrong way.

"Loveless!" The voice called again, a mumble. Artemus froze, listening.

"Artie!" A second voice called. He twisted towards the sound, then scrambled to the shore and ran until he crashed into the broken lift with outstretched arms. Then something crashed into him.

"Get me out of here!" He screamed up into the blinding spot of light high above. Fingers tangled into his hair, wrenching his head back with sharp nails in his cheek. He punched at it. In the painful light, he thought he saw more than one of them. Something slapped him on the back and he struck at it.

It was a thick rope. He blinked through his dazzled sight. The light came and went as if something was passing over the source. The rope had a knot tied at the bottom and a pistol dangling from a leather thong. Three, he thought, in the dimness. He fired towards one without untying the gun. The rope jerked, then stopped.

The outlines made from the gun's flash were small and thin, human but not. The man fell back into the water, there was sizzle and a flash, electrical pulses from the man's goggles. The other two shrieked, human voices, and the current traveled through the wet ground towards them.

Artemus jumped and clung to the knot in the rope, pulling his legs up as the electricity raced over the ground. The body convulsed in the water, dead, but the other two were picking themselves up. "Pull me up!" He shouted and jerked the rope, kicking when they came near. The rope pulled up, but dark hands grabbed his clothes and pulled him away. He screamed when his grip broke and the rope dropped down again.

Bodies held him down, fingers clenching and tearing. They bared broken and sharp teeth at him. Their eyes were small, he thought, or very large on some of them until he realized he was seeing goggle lenses. The light kept shifting, flickering, first blinding then gone and he couldn't see anything. He held up his arms, pushing them away and felt teeth clamp over his wrists, his arms, his shoulders.

The rope was swinging, and he heard yelling. "Grab it! Grab it now!" But for a moment he was frozen. Then he kicked his legs out, catching the soft swollen flesh of a torso and the teeth tore away. He scrambled up, squinting, and saw a wave of limbs, vague and strange colored, outlining pale teeth.

He leapt for the rope and the pistol still attached to it. The rope shivered and began to rise. He dangled for a moment, then climbed unsteadily until he stood on the knot. He forced an eye open against the painful light and shot below him. Then he looked out across the lake where he had left Loveless' body, but the light didn't reach the other side.

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"Artie!… Keep pulling." Jim said, just beneath a yell. Artie didn't look, even with his face in the crook of his arm his temples throbbed. "Give me your hand." Artemus stuck an arm up. A dozen hands seized his shirt and hauled him out with enough force to pull him into the air for an instant.

He landed in warm, sun-burned dirt with an oomph and bent over with his palms pressed over his eyes.

"Where's Dr. Loveless?"

"Artie? Artie, are you okay?"

"Who are those people down there?"

"Ah." He answered, someone was pulling on his arms, and when he didn't budge the person dragged him to the side. "Loveless is dead, down there. Listen, Jim?"

"What is it? Artie, what happened?" A hand pressed briefly on his shoulder.

"Wait, cover the opening, with something heavy." He peaked between his fingers, saw several men scrambled at his order. "Is it covered? Cover it up." He hid his face again.

Jim was pulling at his wrists. "They're covering it, Artie. Are you hurt?"

Artie twisted away. "No, it's just the light, my eyes aren't used to it. Did you cover it?" He peaked once more, for just a second, looking for the gaping pit they'd fished him from.

"It's covered already. Come on."

The light dimmed enough suddenly to ease the shrieking in his head. Artie breathed, smelled hair tonic and looked between his fingers. "Now, come one, we have to go." Jim hauled him to his feet with one hand, and held his hat over Artie's face with the other.

"Where are we going? They covered that hole didn't they?"

"Artie!" Jim sounded more amused than angry. "We're going to a doctor, then I'm going down there after you tell me what you saw. Step into the carriage."

"You won't want to when I do." His voice was low and raw.

"I don't want to after seeing what happened to you. That doesn't change anything." Jim drew the curtains. "There, now stop covering your face, or I'll assume you're an imposter."

"And what are you going to do when you get down there, Jim? I hate to say this." Artemus took his hands down slowly, squinting and half shielding his eyes with his fingers until his eyes adjusted. "But I'll have to go with you."

Jim didn't smile, but his eyes glinted as they looked over his partner. "I don't think you're fit to go anywhere. So Loveless is really dead? How?"

"Drowned I think. Of course, I'm sure there was more going on down there than I saw. And Loveless was, or is, behind it." He snapped his fingers, "Ow. Splinters."

"What did you see, Artie?"

"Technically, nothing." He heaved a heavy sigh and lay his head back against the seat. "I feel sick. Do you have any water, Jim?"

"No, sorry. We're not far from Hampton though, hang in there. You were supposed to meet me there, remember?"

"Yeah." He mumbled, and squeezed his eyes shut. "You said that hole was covered right?"

"Artie!"

Artemus smirked. Jim thought the half circle of bruising divots on Artie's neck looked suspiciously like human teeth.

The carriage rocked in a pot hole, and Artie tipped forward and gasped. Jim caught his shoulders, holding him in place. "You fell asleep."

"Oh." He blinked, leaning back against his seat. "How long?"

"It was fourteen hours, almost fifteen."

"Only? And we're not to the doctor's yet?"

Jim laughed and ran his hand over his face, "I though you meant how long you were missing. You were only asleep a few minutes."

Artie sighed and smiled. "Hey, now you have to be nice to me, Jim, I had a rough night."

"So, Artie." "So, Jim." They said at the same time and laughed.

"You go first since I have to be nice." Jim waved a hand.

"How did you find out where I was?" Artie tried leaning back against the seat, shifted uncomfortably, then put his elbows on his knees.

"I didn't; you didn't meet up with me, so I went ahead and followed Loveless' calling card. But he wasn't there, so I managed to get my hands on one of Loveless' less talented henchman. He told me where Loveless' escape route was. But parts of the floor were caved in, it was like a maze, and you had already been gone for hours. So I made him take me and some local law men to Loveless' exit. It didn't seem like a very good plan on Loveless' part." Jim crossed his arms, tracing the small space inside the carriage with sharp green eyes. They flickered over Artie's face, not deliberately staring but certainly seeing. "What I didn't know was that the exit was five miles away. That's a lot of tunnel."

"Less than I thought. We must have taken the long way. Jim, did you know all of that existed down there? Loveless told me it even went all the way to Washington, but that can't be possible right?"

"I don't see why it would be there."

"I have a theory about that."

"Save it. This is big, it's going to turn a lot of heads. Is it my turn?" Jim asked seriously.

"Sure."

"What are these?"

"I don't know." Artemus said and meant it, until he reached out to take them and they zapped him. "Ow!" Jim had dropped them, and Artie leaned over to look. They looked mostly how Artie had imagined them, only more decrepit. He had expected something new and well polished in Loveless' usual style. The lenses were like glass, only with small flaking fractures like stone, and they were cut at an uneven angle. The rubber holding them in place was warped with imperfections and knife cut and formed. It stuck to his fingers from over exposure to heat. He picked them up, "Somehow these let you see in the dark."

"What?"

"Only they're broken. They got wet." Jim crossed his arms and Artie raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I'm not pretending to know how they work, yet. But I saw that they did. That's the only time I saw anything down there, period."

Jim took them from him and looked through the lenses. "It's black. I can't see anything except the light from the window, barely." He placed them back into Artie's waiting hand. "You didn't have a light?"

"No, I'll have more sympathy for miners from now on, believe me." He tilted the glasses, looking at the heavy mass of copper wires; a few seemed bent, but Artie only tilted and looked, creasing his brow in thought. He looked at them until he caught his dim reflection in the lenses. Then they slipped from his grasp. He put his palm to his forehead, swallowing several times, and slipped after them. It had been afternoon when he had encountered Loveless, and it seemed like morning now. But neither of them were unfamiliar with a night of adrenaline and nightmares, or the crash that followed.

"Artie, are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. I just need to lay down."

"You are."

"I'll take your word for that." He said quietly. He lifted his eyebrows and shook himself slightly. "Do you mind being my pillow?"

"No."

"Good. I'm staying here."

Jim laughed, "You owe me a new suit though." Artie just gave him a sarcastic smile without opening his eyes. "Hey Artie, your boots."

"What about them…" He mumbled sleepily, but Jim didn't answer, just shifted beneath him as he leaned forward.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

"This is real silver, and I was covered in it!" Artie glanced up when Jim entered the parlor car stretching.

"That's what I told you. Does that fit into your theory?"

"It does actually. I think, maybe I'm being too imaginative."

Jim sat at the table across from his partner and leaned on his elbows.

"Did you get enough sleep?" Artie asked.

"Yes. Did you?" Jim thought it was an obvious 'no' but Artie nodded.

"Off and on. I haven't actually been up long. I did work on those goggles though." Artie pushed the little dish of silver flecks aside. His knuckles were scratched and torn.

"Are you sure you're okay Artie?" Jim looked at red, shallow scratches on Artie's face, and thought there might be a slight tremble in his busy hands.

Artie paused and rested his chin on his palm, looking down at his other hand and flexing the fingers. "Sure. I didn't even sleep with the lights on last night." He winked and smiled cheekily.

"You were also sick all night."

"Sick-as-a-dog. And a little drunk. The doctor said I could pick kerosene or vodka to get rid of all the dirty water I swallowed. Children don't get the choice, so I consider myself lucky."

Jim laughed. "You picked Vodka. Darn, I've always wanted to see you drunk."

"No, I'm a mean drunk. I may have roughed you up a little, hurt your feelings and all." Artie narrowed his eyes and tried to look vicious but smiled. He did look better.

"I'd like to see you try." Jim pointed a threatening finger.

Artie held his hands up. "I'll bet! After we get this figured out, you can even pay for the liquor."

"Ha ha. You were saying about the goggles? Did you fix them?" His partner smiled and pushed his chair back.

"I was more concerned with figuring out who made them than how, but yes. Watch this Jim." Artie went to the wall lamps and turned them down until their little flames died, then drew all the curtains and covered them with horse blankets and spare quilts. Jim blew out the table lamp and the room went dark. "Now put on the goggles."

"Do I have to do anything?"

"Just keep your eyes open."

The parlor rearranged itself in dark green hues, with Artie leaning against the far wall. His face was blurred but his form was sharp. Artie spread his arms, waved, and put his hands on his hips. "Are they working, Jim?" He looked around once more, but moving quickly made it too hard to see. A warm hum started over his left ear and began to crackle.

Jim pulled them off his face quickly and set them down, and saw that the room really was darkened. "This is unbelievable."

Artie uncovered one of the windows, standing in its sunbeams a moment before moving onto the others. "It is unbelievable! Except that I honestly don't understand how they work. I don't know how the lenses are composed, or even out of what really. What's more unbelievable, Jim, is that those things are over three-hundred years old, I'm sure of that at least. Who would think of such a device 200 years ago, especially here in America? It has some definite flaws, of course, like occasionally shocking you in the face, and those copper wires are much too easily damaged, and."

"I get the idea Artie. But I'm not sure I know what all this means, not yet anyway."

"I'll tell you, as soon as Colonel Falk is here."

"You seem pretty enthusiastic all of a sudden, compared to yesterday."

"…You know I love a new toy, Jim."

Jim smiled; if it looked as unconvinced as it felt then Artemus ignored it. "There were men down there. I couldn't see them obviously, but I felt them and they were." Artie paused to pick a word. "Peculiar."

"Are you sure it wasn't your imagination, Mr. Gordon?" The doctor asked, although Artie had been addressing Jim.

"No, I'm not." Artie answered, and took shuddering breath with his chin on his palm. Jim leaned over his partner's arm, laying long across the table, while the doctor picked pieces of dirt and silver from a scrape and put them on a tin plate. His forearm was lined with wide half-circles of pale, flat lined bruises, except a few that were severe enough to show blood pilled pocks, like eye teeth. Human, only larger. Artie didn't say what happened, only, "They didn't act like normal people either."

"What would you guess they looked like?" Jim asked when they returned to the train later that night. "If you were to follow what you felt." Artie dropped into a dining chair with a glass in one hand, still dizzy but mostly exhausted, and sketched a warped but fair picture of his attackers.

"More or less." Artie said and pushed it towards Jim, and didn't wait for a reaction. "I'm going to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Artie."

"The Colonel still isn't here?" Artie asked, returning from his room. Jim shook his head with raised eyebrows, and locked the barrel back onto a gun. Artie sat on the couch and tilted his head back and to the side, thinking. "Good, actually. Listen, I was thinking. That's an incredibly large mine; it wouldn't be very hard to discover. Loveless did, so how come no one knew of it?" He prompted.

"The obvious reason is because no one ever comes out after they go in."

Artie nodded. "It also would have taken a long time to make the man made tunnels, secure the natural ones and the main mine, if that's the one we were at. No one would ever have been able to do it with just torches and oil lamps. The workers would have had to return to the surface too often, which is why they made these." Gordon held up the goggles he had been clutching, really clutching, Jim noticed.

"So, Loveless didn't make these?"

"No. How could he have? Unless he purposefully used incredibly old materials. I tested the copper and the rubber and compared them to records of modern metalworking, which is the technology Loveless would use of course. These are much too old for Loveless to have made, although I'm sure he encountered a pair like this while planning his escape, if he wasn't planning something bigger altogether… anyway, if these goggles are over three-hundred years old then there aren't a lot of people who could have made them." He paused, but Jim just looked at him, half-frowning unconsciously. Artie leaned forward in his seat, holding out his scraped palms. "You know in 1585, the Roanoke colony that disappeared, Jim? I think this is them. We're in the right part of North Carolina." He said with hushed enthusiasm and jabbed a finger into his other palm. "Those… rat-people that attacked me. I think this is where they went, and what happened to them. Down, there."

"Down?" Jim said incredulously. "And they had super technology that went down and disappeared with them?"

"Why not? Wealth will do that to a person."

Jim uncrossed his arms and went to answer the knock at the door, but the Colonel was already letting himself in.

"Colonel." They both greeted.

"So Mr. West told me about Dr. Loveless and a large silver mine? What was he intending to do?"

"I don't know sir." Artie stood up. "But don't you see what this means for history? In 1585 settlers…"

"I don't want a history lesson. I know American history as well as you do. Tell me what needs to be done about that mine so I can tell the President what needs to be done."

"I found these when I was down there." Artemus interrupted, standing to hand the goggles to the colonel and offer him the seat. "They let you see in the dark. See, we'll show you, sir. Jim?" Jim gave a tight-lipped smile and helped him cover the windows. "Just look through them."

"I can't see through them, Gordon, it's dark."

"Are you though?"

"I am, and I can't see in the dark."

"What?" Artemus said, disappointed, and cleared the window nearest to him. "They were working a moment ago." The Colonel gave them back and stood up, crossing his arms.

"Sit down Gentlemen, and let's get back on topic."

Artemus cast an annoyed sideways glance at Jim. Jim lifted his eyebrows softly, his face otherwise blank. Artie sat down again, crossing his legs. "Sir," Jim leaned forward as he spoke. "Put simply, there is a mine with an incredible amount of silver, we imagine, and it is also full of at least a dozen very violent men who attack before asking questions and have a very powerful piece of technology, when it works. That constitutes a threat to national security and affects the treasury department as well."

"That's more what I wanted to hear."

Jim tugged his jacket down as he stood. "The first thing I suggest we do, Colonel, is retrieve Dr. Loveless' body, which is the first task concerning our previous assignment."

"You and Gordon are going to do that. Good, do that then."

"Yes, Sir." The Colonel nodded to the agents and let himself out.

"That could have gone better." Artie grumbled, but Jim smiled.

"At least it didn't shock him."

Artemus put his hat on and idly adjusted the brim, finally smirking. "I wish it had. Well, then let's go do it. Who are we bringing?"

"Four agents at the top, and us. It wont take more than us to carry Loveless' body."

"It wont hurt to bring more." Artie suggested.

"It will be hard enough to pull us out with a body if things go wrong."

Artie sighed, "and they probably will. By the way, where is it?"

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"Before it must have been hidden by this old well and the trees." Jim said.

"And luck. This door is definitely new though huh?"

"It looks like Loveless' style."

It was like a steel bolted barn door, not so big but similar. One of their borrowed agents was taking off a lock. "This opening isn't natural." One said, a dark haired man, "but the well was old. It may have been a sink hole that opened it."

"And more luck. I wonder if anyone ever lost a kid down there." Artemus said. The hinges squealed stiffly when the doors were opened. A blast of cool, sour air ruffled their hair and blew Artie's hat off. He turned and walked after it, away from the gaping mouth in front of him.

"Ready to go, Artie?"

Artie paused, crouching to pick up his hat. The goggles shifted around his neck, and he touched them slightly, as if moving them back in place. "As ready as I'm going to get."

Two of their men were carrying a massive roll of rope, which they shook out and a rope ladder fell like a whip through the hole. Muted, they heard it crack at the bottom, then they attached it to the steel bolts that held the doors in place.

"I can take a different agent with me if you're still tired from yesterday." Jim said, slinging a leather rucksack over his shoulder. He had an unlit lamp hanging from the crook on his elbow.

Artemus picked up a matching bag, dug into it and pulled out a stick shaped like dynamite. "No, I have to show you where to find the body don't I??" He lit the fuse and it burst into a stream of golden yellow sparks, then he dropped it. The six men watched it fall, and become a shrinking yellow spot until it hit the ground beneath them, tumbling over rubble. It cast an oval of light with flickering shadows that shone off the nearby water. "Plus, this time I'm positive I have everything we could possibly need, and then some."

"You said these were water resistant didn't you?" Jim asked him, adjusting the bag.

"They are. I tested them briefly." Artie nodded reassuringly then looked the other way.

"Mind if I go first?" Jim said. The ropes quivered and went taut as he descended.

Artemus waited until Jim seemed about halfway down. The ropes were sharp with bristles in his grip, but he new that made it strong. "Be ready," he said, looking up at the other agents. "We will be back at the bottom at one p.m. at the latest, five hours from now. I'll light another flare and call up to you."

"Yes, sir." One answered for the others. "Best of luck to you, Gordon."

Jim dropped the last few feet and took the match that was waiting in his sleeve to light the lamp. He held it up high and saw Artie's dark silhouette against the bright patch of blue sky. He set the lamp across from the flare to make a wider circle of light, then steadied the ropes for his partner. "It's quiet so far." He said, looking about once Artie had landed beside him. Artie didn't answer and lit his own lamp then crushed the dying flame of the flare with his heel.

"Let's hope it stays that way." The light climbed up the wall, then across the lake and stopped over its surface. He looked at the water's edge, but it was still except for faint natural waves from the water that poured into it. He turned to look at the quivering rope ladder and behind it was the wooden one with the hacked rungs. The wood actually seemed more fragile and pocked with rotten spots of pith. He held out his left hand; it was the one he had felt the wall with, the one with the splinters, then turned the other direction. "Okay, we have to go this way."

"You're sure?" Jim asked, he knew Artie was, from all the miming and muttering, but it never hurt to ask. Artie's eyes were dark hollows from the shifting fire light. Jim held up the lamp until their faces were clear.

"Yes." Artie took a few careful steps backwards, reaching out to touch the wall. He started forward, then slowed down to walk next to Jim. He nodded his head and smiled reassuringly. His hand was close to his gun belt.

"About how far would you guess it is?" The chamber was perfectly quiet, the ground flat and pebbly. The dirt was dented in with vague heel marks. Some must be Artie's, Jim knew, but the others could be anyone's, or be 300 years old.

"All the way at the other end of this lake." Even their hushed voices echoed. Artie pulled the goggles off, then held them over his face. "There! Oh wait, no, yes they're working." He passed them quickly to Jim.

The lake spread out, surprisingly large. There was a litter of shapes on the curved shore, all smaller than a man and undefined in shape. "You did well to get through all this walking blind."

"Huh." Artie agreed incredulously, "thanks." He reached for the goggles, and let them hang at his wrist. "I was breezing through all right, right up until I was almost eaten." Jim thought about the sketch Artie had done and wondered how much was exaggerated by terror. He slipped his gun quietly into his hand.

"That's the first time you actually said that they… bit you, you know."

"I'm not comfortable with the idea." Artie said defensively, and held his lamp up. There was a dull glimmer of something that caught the light. "I think that's him. The light is catching on the silk handkerchief I left. And there," he pointed out a sense of deepness ahead and above. "I came through there, that's how I got here. I wonder if that's the only way?"

"No, there must be another way that Loveless intended to take. He never had just one way out."

They reached the corpse, laying straight and comfortable in their path with the handkerchief over its face. Jim put out a hand in front of Artie, jaw clenched, but Artie had already stopped.

Artie's eyes flickered slightly as he tried to recall Loveless' position when he'd tripped on him. He nodded slightly in thought, so Loveless had been long-ways. No, diagonal, it had been his legs Artie felt first? No, his chest; so his head was away from the water. Then, Jim was watching him for some signal, Loveless seemed to be pointed as he should. Artie shrugged and moved towards it with Jim at his shoulder holding out the light.

"Something isn't right." Jim warned. He set his lantern down and tugged the corner of cloth away.

"How?" Artie began, shaking his head. A carved, and badly carved, face looked up at them with a doll-like smile. They both sprang up at once.

"A trick." Jim growled.

Artie looked anxiously towards the spot of daylight that seemed very far away suddenly. "I felt a body though, his…"

"Not now, Artie." Jim took off at a sprint, his boots sliding on the pebbled ground. Artie was a dozen paces behind him glancing around nervously, first the water, then up. There was a grinding, cracking sound and a shower of dust that half-masked the lamp-light.

"It's too late!" Artemus gasped; they weren't even half way there. Orange flames bloomed high above, first billowing out, then spreading in a white wave. The cavern lit up as clear as day, glittering white with precious metal. Crooked wooden scaffolding followed cockeyed ladders all over the jagged walls. The water was grey and average except for the wall of dust pushing across its surface.

Jim skidded to a halt, holding his gun up uselessly. Artie appeared at his side just as Jim was turning to look for him. "Get down!" Jim yelled, and they threw themselves flat.

Artie watched the lake boiling towards him, dust burning his eyes, and sat up slightly. Jim was screaming in his peripheral, but he made no sound over the deafening blast, nor did the glass on the lanterns when it shattered and the flames blew out insignificantly. Artie fumbled with the rucksack, shoved the goggles inside and drew the strings closed. He looked up at the lake again, at the wave of rubble and light and screamed. Jim grabbed a handful of hair and shoved his head down.

The water crashed over their backs and clawed back into the lake bed still grasping at them. They slid over the shore towards the water, and Artie slipped over the lip, but the second waved shoved them and a mass of rubble to back again. He made a desperate grab for anything and his fingers found the heavy fabric of Jim's jacket.

He thought he felt Jim's hand brush his arm, then his grip broke, dragging him into the lake. The third sucking wave kicked Jim high onto the shore, and when it drew back it seemed to suck the light in with it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

Jim blinked, shook his head and blinked again but he saw nothing. His wet clothing hung off him heavily. "Artie?" He asked, then felt in a wide circle, cracking his nails on the rough surface of wood and stone. The strap of Artie's bag was clenched in his fist, but his own had washed out from under him. "Artie!" He yelled as he pulled at the strings of it. Remembering what Artie had told him, he held the goggles away from his face and searched around him. They didn't work as first, until he gave them a shake.

"Jim!" Artie's voice echoed far out, with splashes and gasps. It sounded faint in the ringing in Jim's ears. "Jim!"

Through the green haze of the goggles, Artie was a dark shape bobbing on the torn surface. "Hang on, Artie!" He yelled back. He was far out, but much closer to Jim than the other side. Jim put the goggles away and lit a remarkably dry torch from the bag. It crackled a long moment then grew into a strong flame. He waved it slightly. "Swim this way!"

He heard an indistinct mumble of relief and kicking splashes. Then a shadow spilled over his boots; Jim ducked under a pair of arms and leapt backwards, but there were others just out of the torch's glow that grabbed him. The torch dropped onto the wet ground but kept burning. "Jim? What's happening?" Artie yelled between gasping breaths.

A hand pressed over Jim's face. Jim picked his legs up, using the two holding him to kick a third. It fell back and to the side, into the sphere of light. It held its swollen gut, small eyes clenched, jaw opening and shutting, wide teeth clacking with pained gasps.

"It's rude to stare, Mr. West." A scornful voice said out of the dark. "One of you put out that torch." The torched was kicked into the lake and popped out.

"Jim!"

Jim twisted, shifting his weight to buck off the arms. "Not wise, Mr. West. If they're not holding you down, they'll have nothing better to do than join Mr. Gordon on his swim." They gently pushed Jim forward until he began to walk. He growled behind the hand over his mouth. "Quickly, bring him. And be quiet! Quiet." They walked as casually as if in daylight, except for Jim who was steered.

"Jim! Jim!" The echo was sharp in his ears, growing louder and more pitched.

Jim rolled forward, shaking the hand off his face. He punched into the darkness and missed. "Artie!" He screamed, before something struck him in the face and he fell back with a mouthful of blood.

Artie twisted towards the sound, paddling his arms to stay above the chaotic water. A wave forced him under for a moment, and he popped up again with a gasp. The light was gone. He thought he'd heard a struggle, but now it was silent except for the waves and his own gasps and splashes. He listened; something slapped the water behind him and he spun towards it, then with a panicked gasp spun back in the direction he had been. A wave hit the side of his head and knocked him off balance. "No." He whispered when he had reached the surface again. He swam a few strokes forward and stopped. It didn't seem right at all, having the waves at his back like that. He turned left slightly and began again. Artie knew he was a strong swimmer, he spat out water and coughed, but it was a long enough distance back to where Jim had been, and if he was going the wrong way…

The waves were smoothing out and becoming less distinct, and Artie hardly knew which direction they were coming from. He tried to stroke forward was barely managing to keep his head above the water. He opened and closed his eyes, and saw nothing but the vague balls of light and blackness either way.

Something, likely rubble, crashed on the shore, scraping down the wall. It sounded very far away. Artie took a deep breath, half heaving in panic. The racket came from behind. He swam forward.

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Jim was dumped onto a wooden chair. Hands held his shoulders back or he would have leaned forward into his hands. He closed his eyes against the fire light and reached up to feel his split lip. He pushed his thumb against his teeth, but they all seemed intact.

"You've got to stop doing that, Mr. West. Why can't you ever just come peaceably?" Loveless said, his voice loud then soft as he passed by.

"Where's Artemus?"

"Oh, still out on the lake, swimming in circles." Loveless leaned into a chair, specially delivered for him to lean into, and hung a cane over the arm. "He'll get tired and drown soon enough if he doesn't make it ashore." One of the men, bent, with a swollen stomach and a gaping face, similar but worse in reality than Artemus' sketch, handed Loveless the rucksack. Jim blinked at the grinning man, he would have sworn the man was pale blue but didn't want to trust his eyes. Loveless dumped out the sacks on a table and looked at their contents curiously.

"Would you let him drown? That's not like you, Loveless." Jim prodded, still blinking through the bright lights and the odd sight in front of him.

"Isn't it? See, I have a dilemma. On one hand, his supposed heroic attempt to capture me sprained my ankle and nearly got me drowned, not to mention that he caused the collapse of the mine entrance, which I will later have to seal up completely, if it doesn't deteriorate further on its own. And, on the other hand, there's that nagging shred of decency he showed towards me. But was it enough to pity him now?" Loveless held his hands up then laced his fingers. Jim's eyes still burned as he met Loveless grey eyes. "How do I know it wasn't another of his marvelous acts to protect himself?"

"Artie isn't like that."

He put his hand on his chin thoughtfully, then sighed. "I suppose not." He grinned then. "Would one of you go set a light for our friend on the lake? Here, you can even use one of his own."

Jim took a slow but deep breath and crossed his ankles. "So what do you want from me?"

Loveless snickered, "You don't need to hide your relief. If you must know, I wasn't planning to let him drown. True, Gordon single handedly ruined my great plan without trying, but then I thought of a better one. I'll need him later, but until then he'll be fine stumbling around in the dark. I may send some of my new friends to keep him company." Loveless drummed his long fingers on the table. "Ah, he did fix these, well, mostly, I should have known." He held up the goggles. "Aren't these incredible? At least for their time, my recreation is much improved."

"Doctor, why don't you get to the point."

Loveless narrowed his eyes, regarding Jim with a barely suppressed sneer. "You're not in a hurry, believe me. Are you curious about my new friends? They're the…"

"Missing settlers from Roanoke." Jim interrupted casually.

Loveless' eyes went wide. "How do you know that? Well, I guess other people are capable of making connections." His jaw flexed slightly. "Anyway, they're a hideous bunch, but mostly harmless."

"Mostly." Jim repeated. "Artemus would argue with that. They attacked him."

Loveless shrugged. "They were frightened. Gordon was trespassing and they fought to protect what was theirs."

"What was theirs, or what is yours?"

"Ah, you know me well. But no, it's theirs, but I'm sure they will want to reward me handsomely for helping them."

"Reward you with silver?"

"Yes, that's very nice. And of course they don't need to know that that will be their untimely revealing and destruction." Jim stood up, shrugging his captors off, and Loveless raised a hand. "Very careful now, Mr. West. If you're not my friend, you're not theirs."

"Can't they hear what we're saying?"

Loveless grinned then giggled. "They must have been very brilliant at one point, pity really. But no, their English is very old fashioned, unchanged by American history like ours. Not to mention inbreeding and a very poor diet. That makes them very stupid and very unpredictable."

"I hate to be impatient, but you haven't told me what your plan is, or how I get to help."

"You can't think of it? It's actually very simple. You mentioned the silver."

Jim thought for a moment, then shook his head slightly. "You're going to flood the economy?"

Loveless laughed, "See, I told you it was simple."

"It won't be enough to do what you want." Jim leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Once the money has been evaluated and decisions are made, likely it will be distributed straight to security and lengthening the borders. It will probably stimulate the economy."

"At first, because you're right of course, it's only silver. But there is more in this cavern than silver. What else glitters white and is worth a lot of money?"

"Diamonds."

"Diamonds!" Loveless slid carefully from his seat and fetched a lidless metal box. "They need to be cut and polished, but how much money do you think is in this tin?"

"Lots?"

"Lots!" Loveless clapped his hands, practically squealing, then thrust a finger in the air. "And all I need to do is let you go."

"What?" Jim frowned, his hands tense on his knees. "Where's the punch-line?"

Loveless tossed his head back and laughed. "Just go back to your commanding officer and tell him everything you saw. My "friends" and I will escort you to the nearest exit."

Jim scratched his neck then smiled.

"There's more to it, Loveless. What are you really up to?"

"I told you West. I'm sure you think there's some way you can avoid this, but how can you? Really? You can't convince people that they don't want money. That's what brought all of us and our long-lost-friends here, isn't it? Friends!" Loveless called, and four goggle wearing colonists came though, smiling toothy smiles. "Help Mr. West outside. Out - Him." He yelled, pointing upwards.

"What about Artemus?" Jim pulled back on the arms grabbing at him, looking at their wide smiles, then at Loveless.

"He's to make sure you come back of course."

"So you're just going to leave him in the mine? Aren't you worried that he'll do something to spoil your plan?" Jim threatened, but Loveless just smiled.

"Like what exactly? Anything he may have brought will be soaked by now. And he wont be able to find the exit. Believe me, these people have been here for 200 years and didn't find this particular one, now the last useable besides the two Gordon is responsible for destroying. He's very talented at stumbling into good fortune, but not that good. You don't think so either or you wouldn't have brought it up, I don't think." Loveless laughed. "Friends," he waved a hand. "Tie his arms." He tossed them a length of thin rope. Their torn nails prodded into the fabric of his jacket as they tied him.

Jim waited casually while Loveless fastened a more streamlined pair of goggles on. The copper wires were thicker and looked stronger, and the lenses were held in round well-formed bronze frames. Loveless fetched his cane. They didn't have to push Jim into walking out of the little sitting room back into the mine.

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Gasping, choking, Artemus realized he was doing more splashing than swimming. The water was still again, except for him, the only unwanted disturbance on its surface. He stopped, just waving his arms gently, and drifted into a half sitting position where he could float without loosing his fabricated sense of direction.

The water's chill squeezed his heart and throat even as his muscles relaxed. It shouldn't, he thought over his own pitched breath, take him so long to find the shore. So he was either very close or very far away.

The silver outline of his knees bobbing in the light just ahead of him didn't at first seem odd. After all, he'd been willing the very sight since the torch went out. "Jim," he whispered gratefully. The yellow-green flare hissed and grew brighter, seeming to be very close. He swung forward and began to kick for it immediately. Picking his head up to take a breath, he saw an outline stepping away from the light. The tall shapeless figure was familiar, the glint of little eyes were too. He pulled his arms back, stopping with a splash. The figure disappeared.

It didn't matter, he realized, who was on the shore, because he would drown long before they left. Besides, wherever Jim was, those men-creatures had dragged him there. His knees scraped the bottom and he stumbled to his feet, bent under exhaustion and the sudden bulk of his weight on his shoulders. He walked, half crawled to the flare and dropped to his knees in its circle of light.

He tried to look into the dimness but only saw the green-yellow light blinding and reassuring him. The stream of sparks and flames was weakening already, with quivering frantic shadows that played over the ground and the back of Artemus' hands.

There were splinters of wood around him from the beams, which should have concerned him. Artemus gathered a few pieces within reach, but they were rotten and half soaked and wouldn't catch or even smoke hopefully. The sparks were fading, jumping slower from their base.

He heaved a sigh, rubbed the water off his face then blew warmth into his shivering hands. There was still nothing but black outside his shrinking circle. Carefully, he picked up the end of the flare and held it up; the half-light caught the crease in his brow. Then he stuck the flaming tip into the wet ground, and the circle closed in and vanished instantly.

Artemus stood, shivering when cold air picked at his wet clothes. "Okay," he spread his arms, "I'm blind, I'm tired, my boots are ruined, come get me." He turned in a helpful circle. He waited, he felt no fingers, heard no foot steps. He dropped his arms and looked thoughtfully at the feet he couldn't see. "I'm much better than rats and roaches. I thought you were all so sophisticated. Come on! I was good enough for you before."

Nothing. There was nothing in the cavern but him and the vague echo of his own voice. Artemus turned one way, then the other, feeling hopefully into the darkness, breathing loud, then his knees buckled and he collapsed in an unconscious heap.

Pale flesh quivered in the dark, an exchange of small meaningless nods, long clenching fingers. The collapsed man in the middle of their wide watch was, they had been assured, "friend." But now he was dead. It couldn't hurt after all. Their helpful little "friend" couldn't be mad about that.

Theirs were green mouse-like faces; everything they saw was green, except for the white crack of electricity. They were looking for another to take the first step. No one moved, so they looked to the one with the hard face, large eyes, who was biggest.

He shifted; a cautious step on bootless feet, a curious tilt of his head. His thin lips parted, showing a row of teeth and gums. The others shuffled forward after him on thin legs. Long fingers reached out, pinching the stranger's dark hair, stroking the nice cloth; silent except for the click of teeth.

Warm, rancid breath hit his face and his eyelids flickered. Artemus struck out, his fist found cool flesh that protested with a scream. He jumped up and after the body, stumbling over feet and grabbing for its face. His knee landed in the man-creature's ribs, and he groped until his hands wrapped securely around the raised lenses. "Ha!" He breathed and stumbled up again, batting away hands and slid the goggles over his face.

Wide mouths and soft, wrinkled faces turned towards him, green-black and only barely human. The one he had attacked crawled to his feet, swinging his head in a blind search for Artemus. One stepped forward, taller and broad. Artemus held up his hands, unclear and unsure if he was ready to give up or fight, then he noticed the man-creature was wearing his lost corduroy jacket.

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"Now," Loveless said cheerfully and stepped ahead. Jim glared. They were surrounded in a deep, grey half-light. A yellow ring outlined a curve in the tunnel that led out. "They'll just hold you here for a goodly amount of time while I go tuck myself safely away." Loveless made a grabbing gesture like squeezing Jim's shoulders, maybe his neck, "Five minutes, friends?" He pulled out a pocket watch and tapped it, then put it away. He bowed, grinning. "I'll be contacting you soon, Mr. West, for an update. Goodbye friends." Then he worked his way slowly up the steep incline and out of sight.

Jim tucked his chin in and spat out the gag. The cold seemed to seep through his jacket from the hands on his arms and shoulders . "Friends?" He said, low and confident, and smiled. One smiled back; a twisted, alarming sight. They still wore their goggles, although there was enough light to see. Jim wondered why they didn't leave, even with access to the entrances. The walls seemed carved by man by their neat structure, except for the damp growth of moss and fungus growing from all sides.

"Friends." One agreed, nodding. The hair stood up at Jim's neck and hairline, screaming danger. The man pushed Jim forward encouragingly.

"Untie me?" Jim asked, lifting his arms slightly. They frowned.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

Arms and grabbing hands, open mouths and exposed gums under thin lips, closed in under the disorienting wave of dark green. Artemus was ready; logic told him they were just people. Convoluted by time, with clouded, child-like minds, the minds of rats and roaches, but just people. He was heavier and stronger than any of their taut, wiry frames, and angry too, as much as he was frightened. He twisted, throwing the limbs away and shoved the one in front of him with a grunt.

The man-creature stumbled back, tripped over another's feet and rubble. The goggles made two perfectly round gaps across his dark colored face. His mouth opened in a shocked, frightened, even appalled looking twist. Oh my, Gordon thought, off the ship and into the darkness… and back into the light; the electricity outlined its body as it fell into the water.

Several others were still reaching towards their kinsman even as they screamed in horror. The electricity sent out bolts of light like veins over the water and onto the shore. Then it ended and fell silent except for the twitches of the very dead man.

Thin skin bent and wrinkled with angry looks, directed at Artemus. They leapt, overpowering him with numbers and jerked him off his feet. "No!" Artemus screamed, trying to curl and twist to pull his limbs free. They carried him towards the water and the floating body in it. "No! No!" He shouted and shook his head desperately until the leather strap loosened and the goggles fell, then they tossed him back into the water. Well, it was a nice try, he thought, drifting upwards.

Artie hit the surface swinging, but he froze, bobbing back under and kicking gently to bring his head up; he was alone. No, he wiped water from his eyes. Pebbles ground under a foot and bounced into the water from his left, although it was hard to hear over the rush of water that seemed to be spewing from the tunnel on the other side of the lake again. Always way left, he thought. Of course, there was nothing but a heap of rocks the other way now. Wherever they're going, he decided, shaking water off his face, I am.

Artemus kicked forward in the direction his feet had pointed when they tossed him. Three cautious strokes and his knees clumsily struck the side. He slid up onto it and sat, up to his waist in the chilly water. His heart was pounding, a hollow feeling of warning beneath his goose-pimpled skin.

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Jim balked, pressing his head into his shoulder as the light hit him, and stumbled up the incline. He couldn't look when he walked onto the level ground that met him with warm breezes. Dry grass crunched under him when he sat and worked his tied wrists beneath his body and pulled his feet out, kicking the knife from the toe of his boot.

He was almost ready to consider opening his eyes when the ropes fell from his wrists. But it didn't matter; Jim turned and ran back down into the darkness.

Jim had been careful to recognize the distance and turns as he had been led out of mine, hoping he could invert his muscle memory and find his way back in. But it hadn't turned out to be worth much. Soon he was walking in a slow sideways arch with his palms on the rough and damp wall, tensing at the feel of what might be brushing fingers or just bugs, and not so sure after all.

He stopped, suddenly seeing the twisting shadow of himself, shoulders hunched defensively, move across the wall and behind him. The white orb of a lantern swung erratically, held by a blue tinted hand out from the pitch and coming towards him. Jim crouched. Ready, he thought grimly, with some primal fixation on the lamp.

The man stopped well out of reach, the light casting a swaying image of the corpse like body. Jim held perfectly still; the shadows catching the dangerous look in his eyes. The man-corpse slowly put a dapper hand in the pocket of Artemus' fringed riding jacket, the one his partner had been wearing that morning.

They contemplated each other a long moment out of the shadows, then the other turned, waving a bony hand for Jim to follow. Jim flexed his jaw and took a shallow breath, but followed cautiously behind. He held his arms out at his sides, ready for any attack.

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Artemus tried to listen, clutching a molding beam against the wall. The water spilling constantly into the lake drowned out every sound. He squeezed his wrist subconsciously, wondering if somehow he would be different when he couldn't see or hear himself. It surprised him when his fingers wrapped around the familiar skin and bone.

The hand on his upper arm though, unseen but imagined as dry and wrinkled, was troublesome. He jumped away and broke its grasp. In realization, he reached out again and felt nothing. Artemus drew his arms back nervously and his elbow cracked into teeth and glass. Electricity lit up the face in white stripes and sent a cold bolt up Artie's arm. "Ow!" He yelped, muted against the far off water. He spun, shaking his tingling arm and grabbed for the floating leftover image of the face.

The flesh was cold and too tight under his fingers. Artemus was already backing into the silver encrusted wall, arms out-stretched, hoping for a lucky hit. The rat-colonist fell, scrambled up and leapt; just a shuffle of sounds then the burn of wet teeth in his skin. Artemus held up his arms, tried to lean back against the wall for leverage and fell though.

The fire was low and burning a deep, hospitable orange. The simple wooden chairs were occupied by drowsy resting men; their ankles crossed, hands clasped across their middles. Artemus saw them upside down from the floor, drifting in and out of the dying glow. Their bluish skin and dark, one-toned eyes wrecked havoc on the scene of normalcy. They turned in their seats, blinking, one mumbled in surprise, while Artemus dragged slowly to his feet.

One, large and frowning with eyebrowless creases, wore Artemus' corduroy jacket. He was favoring a broken nose. Artemus smiled, angling his back to the wall. "You know," he said and cleared his throat. "I think we should be friends? Can't we?" He spoke to them like he would a animal on its haunches. He tugged off his wet and clinging riding jacket, smoothing out the jaw shaped strains in the damp leather and held it out.

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The man-creature held open the door to Loveless' ill placed sitting room for Jim with a small bow. "Loveless," Jim walked into the room and shielded his eyes. "If that's your idea of a joke, it isn't funny."

"I don't know, Jim." A voice said pleasantly. "I think I'm starting to see the irony myself."

Jim grinned, shaking his head. Cracking an eye open, he saw a room full of wrinkled blue corpses, and Artemus, lounging carelessly in a his shirtsleeves with a wineglass resting on his palm. Jim laughed into his hands. "Is this story going to be as good as I think, Artie?"

Artemus laughed and his cheeks went red. "Not even if I embellished." He looked sheepish for a moment, despite his smile, then blinked the look away. Jim blinked back at him, still on edge. Artie stood, looked around for a spot to set his glass and settled on a waiting, long-fingered hand. There was a quick glimmer of disgust on his face. "Argyria," He said quickly, walking towards Jim. "Arygia maybe, arg-something at any rate." He enthusiastically nodded at Jim. "I read it before, Ancient Greek history, I studied it for awhile. A lot of bogus old theories I thought, but prolonged exposure to silver can cause skin and eye problems. It changes the color. See? But it should also kill you. I mean, it must, look what it's caused with these poor devils, and besides, no excess amount of metal in the body is really good for anyone."

Artie paused, there wasn't really enough room to pace. Dark blue eyes slid side to side watching. One of men made a small sound and Artie froze. "Oh!" He said. "So, I'm thinking that they're experiencing this metal-condition as of just recently." He gestured to the men, then grabbed Jim's arm. "I need your jacket by the way, sorry."

"Artie," Jim tried. He pulled out of his damp jacket and set it in Artie's waiting hands. Artie didn't let him finish; he was talking too fast. Artie held out the jacket to the bone thin man, hairless and almost toothless, who grinned too broadly as he tried on the article.

Then Artie continued pacing, striking his palm as he thought. "If they had been exposed to the silver for a long time, meaning hundreds of years, they wouldn't have survived this long. In fact," Jim started to jump away when an admiring hand and eager face found his embroidered vest. Artie cringed and shrugged. Jim took it off. "In fact," Artie started again, rubbing his forehead roughly. "You noticed the water haven't you, Jim?"

"It's going up." Jim nodded. "You think they were driven up by it?"

"Yeah."

"Then they had to climb up and were forced into a smaller space. That pit must be very deep then."

"Which is why they've never found the exit, until lately. And we've never found them." Artie put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. "These people aren't so bad just…"

"Stupid."

"Right. If they were working for Loveless they sure jumped ship fast." The man-creature pulled on his new vest and pulled it closed. It matched.

"They did. And that gives me an idea too."

Despite being muddied and bruised, with a clear air of over-stimulation, Jim noticed the authority Artemus was playing. Artie gave a quiet, stressed hum and looked at Jim as if he just realized he was there. "You said something about Loveless?"

"Yes." Jim said. "I did, and I'll tell you, but first I think we need to get out of this mine. Unless of course you want to stay permanently?"

Artie's poise crumbled into panic. Jim grinned; he knew it would. "In that case, let's go."

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Artie held the lantern held up at his shoulder and caught Jim's arm. "Look at this, it's fungus." The wooden scaffolds were coated in the pale fuzz. "It catches the light too. There is something else in this cave that is white and shiny." He joked grimly, playing off what Jim had told him of Loveless. "Maybe this mine isn't worth as much as we thought."

Jim pulled his arm free. "That's nice, but later, okay Artie?" They pressed close to the wall now, herded by the shrinking shore as the water poured into the cave.

"Loveless probably tampered with it, or I wonder…" Artie touched the goggles, a pair of Loveless' rendition, on his forehead. "It doesn't fit his story."

"I think it does." Jim said. They were half-running now. "I think he wanted to flood the market, alright. With fungus like you said. Start a new gold rush. A silver rush. The whole thing is hoax, but why?"

"What?" Artie yelled from beside him. The hissing lamp caught the worry in his eyes, pupils dilated and black. Oh no, Jim watched him mouth while his own face was pursed in its own panicked way.

Jim took the lamp and ran, leading the way to the exit Loveless had showed him. There was a faint hum of Artemus yelling behind him that he couldn't make out. They ran into the slim corridor, Artemus nervously turning sideways away from the close walls as he followed.

The tunnel ended in collapsed rocks. Solid, except for hot, gun powder scented blasts of wind, and settling dust that made ghosts with the lamp light. The din was an old echo, and they were too late.

Artemus stood behind him a dozen steps, and picked his shoulders up when Jim turned towards him. "We'll take the way you came from, the first time." Jim yelled. Artie cringed. He pulled the pair of Loveless' renovated goggles from the top of his head over his face. His parted lips seemed near protest, but he nodded and started back the other way.

"Do you think Loveless blocked this one too?" Artie asked.

"He didn't think too, it's too messy for him." Jim paused grimly, "you two couldn't get out that way before, and now it's flooded."

If they weren't desperate, neither would have ever considered the violent spew of water above them an exit. "I can get us up there, but how will we stay up there?" Jim assembled his grappling hook from the unfamiliar outline of his hands made by the goggles. Artie's black-green face appeared before the muzzle of his derringer, regained from Loveless' parlor.

"I brought hooks, I think they'll work in there." Jim ran his fingers across his forehead, and gave his partner a hard stare.

"You think they'll work?" But even as they were standing their the water seemed to be slowing and lowering so they could see a slim, black sliver of empty space in the tunnel.

"Have you got a better idea? Put the goggles in the satchel." The bag was the only one remaining, since Jim's had washed away into the lake when Artie had. He gave Jim his pair. "And tie it onto yourself, for heaven's sake."

Jim was more concerned with how they would breathe than how they would protect the goggles they couldn't wear, but still. "Will it matter if they're in the bag after a while? The water will soak through eventually, right?"

Artie looked mildly defensive, drawing his brows together. "It should be…"

"Artie."

Artemus swallowed, and glanced at his boots; the second pair ruined in two days. "You're right, sorry. Take them out." He dropped his arms at his side, his face pulled back with a frustrated grimace.

At least, Jim thought, his partner knew how to plan for a worst-case-scenario. They strapped the small hooks to their palms, and Artie wrapped his arms securely around Jim's waist. The clawed tip of the grappling hook attached to the pistol didn't catch the first time, and slid limply down the unceasing fall of water. Artie loosened his arms, sighing. "My hair is going to be gray." Jim smiled, but it looked bitter in the poor light as he pulled the hook back in.

"Get ready."

"When you are, Jim." The voice was close by his ear and almost made Jim shiver. Apprehension, he thought, there were too many things that could go wrong, even for him. He narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger with a steady finger.

They left the goggles behind in a pile by the lantern.

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They broke into the pushing water and it pushed back like a solid wall. They were brushed easily to the side and down beneath the surface. The gun was torn from Jim's grasp, but he didn't wash away after it. The arms around his waist gave a none-too-gentle squeeze. Jim turned the hooks from the backs of his hands and searched for a grip in the stone.

He climbed a few feet and thrust his head above the surface. The water was cold and sour.

Wiping his face on his shoulder, he blinked water from his eyes, but there was nothing to see. Behind him, he heard a splash and gasp; a curse found its way into Artie's huffing. "Jim?"

"Yeah, Artie."

"If you're waiting for directions, you're on your own. I wouldn't know which way was up if I didn't float." He blew water off the tip of his nose. "Anyway, I don't recall any turns."

"Would you know if there had been?"

There was a long semi-silence; the roar of the water covered up several muttered "no's". At last he spoke. "Yes. It was straight. Just go, Jim." Jim was already moving.

"Artie?" Jim asked, after unmeasured hours. It was a change from the nervous 'Jim?' that had begun to run his patience, or maybe just his nerves, down. The muscles in Jim's arms and his voice quavered when he spoke.

"Yeah."

"Let's stop."

"Yeah." Artie answered and kicked him accidentally anyway. "Sorry."

"Are you okay Artie?" Jim tried to stretch his arms but the water threatened to rip him away from the wall.

"Yeah." Artie answered, more quietly. "Are you?"

"Earlier I thought…" There was just a slight break. "Something had touched me. Brushed up against my shoulder."

"Big or small?"

"Big. One of our friends?"

"Yeah." Artie's voice hitched from the cold, like Jim's did. "I felt them last time too. Just bodies." His boots slid, looking for purchase and he kicked Jim again. Then he laughed; a repressed half sigh. "Sorry."

"You don't sound sorry."

"No, I was just thinking. Those bodies must be coming from above us. I didn't think of it because I couldn't get back up, but now we can."

Jim looked up, as if trying to see what he could only imagine. "How are we going to do that? You don't mean the gun?"

"That's gone? I figured. But, have you reached up? The ceiling is right there. I even think the water is slowing, lowering too a bit, but slower at least."

Jim reached up and only had to bounce slightly to touch the top. Loose pebbles, warm to the touch, rained onto his face. He shook his head and grasped the wall again, digging the hooks into the rough stone. "We won't know when there will be a way up. Our weight could cause a bigger collapse." But he was feeling the stone again, using the small hooks to claw at it and test its strength. Artie wouldn't have suggested it if he didn't have an idea, Jim thought. The water's pull was exhausting and the darkness unsettling, so maybe it was worth it. "Loveless must have had men walking through those tunnels."

"Wagons even, maybe."

"We just need to wait for a splash then." Not likely over the din, but it was a hopeful thought.

It wasn't a splash but the sensation of a body tearing downward through the water close by Jim's side. The water pulsed, then it was swept away. "Artie, give me a boost."

"Alright." Artie sounded more enthusiastic, more awake. Jim felt a trembling arm bump into his back then loop around his waist. "Are you ready?" Artie said at his ear, low and serious.

"Hang on tight."

Jim's palms grated over the stone surface. It seemed unstable and foreign. His fingers scraped the top, showering rocks, then plunged upward into nothingness. He backtracked and found a thick ledge.

Artie yelped as Jim kicked up water and put his boots on his partner's shoulders. He missed once and Artie's word-choice suggested he got a good kick in the face. Jim stood up and grabbed the ledge quickly and pulled himself into the tunnel above. He stayed carefully poised to leap if the stone crumbled under his weight. After a moment he reached for the bag at his side. Some things were wet, the damp paper was peeling off the flares and the bottom felt full of gritty gunpowder from small explosives that had broken open.

"Jim?" A small voice called up.

"Just a minute, Artie."

He fumbled through the bag and felt paper, sticky but mostly dry. He tore it open and felt the flint wrapped in wax paper. He tried several fuses hoping they wouldn't blow up in his face or knock him unconscious, and a flare burst into yellow-white light. "Okay. Artie!" He yelled down into the stream, which seemed darker with the new light surrounding him.

"Yes, Jim."

"I'm going to reach down and take your arms."

"So, take off the hooks?"

Jim laughed quietly, then slid onto his stomach and reached down. Artie grabbed his wrist with one hand. The water snatched him as soon as he reached for Jim with the other. Jim felt the pull of the water as Artie dangled..

He clung to Jim's wrists, dragging his partner forward slightly. The rocks shuddered and gave under their combined weight, peeling away under Jim's ribs and falling. Jim grabbed the back of Artie's shirt when he could, pulled the man up and nearly tossed him away before leaping back towards the wall himself.

Artie stumbled into the wall, shivering and weighed down by his wet clothing, and stayed there panting. When the shower of rocks slowed without dragging him in for a final, fatal swim he turned, pressing his back close to the wall, and slid down the rough stone and fungus to sit.

Jim, across from him, sidled carefully away from the gaping hole at the tips of his boots. Then, like Artemus, sat heavily. He looked across at Artemus, scowling and ready to pounce but no one was around. He leaned back and sighed, then the stones collapsed again, making one last attempt and took the bag. Artemus half stood to reach for it, knowing it was useless, as it and the flare fell. He saw Jim's face, just as the light went out, and thought, baffled, it almost looked like Jim thought it was funny.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter six

"You looked horrified," Jim laughed into the darkness and Artie balked.

"Looked? I was horrified. I am! Aren't you?" He still grasped the stone, wanting to be indignant but found that he was laughing too.

"Yes!" Jim answered, it was easier to admit in the dark, and it seemed funny somehow.

Artie pressed his palms over his mouth and tried to calm down, but his shoulders shook and he barely breathed. Jim took a deep breath; maybe his face had gone red in the dark. "What are we going to do?" Artie gasped. Little creatures bumped into their legs and scampered over the two of them, squeaking, and they seemed to all go one way, but Jim and Artie were too tired to worry about them.

"I don't…" Jim began, and they both stiffened as familiar laughter echoed on the chilled air just as theirs stopped.

Jim had already struggled to his feet when he felt hands. He easily shoved them away, tearing flat teeth from his skin. Artemus knew they would come, but he didn't expect the ring of laughter that seemed to follow every missed strike and angry set of nails that reached his flesh.

Then it was over. "Friends, friends! Enough!" Loveless called, a sigh floated towards them from the tunnel. "It's empty sport, and I've had enough." The attack stopped but the grasping hands did not. "I knew better than to ask for your cooperation Mr. West, ah, but I guess I'm an optimist." There was a slight pause. "Has Mr. Gordon lost his wits?" Gordon was trying not to laugh and failing.

"Maybe." Jim grinned, turning his head out of habit. "Can you blame him?"

"No." Artemus interrupted from behind his hand. "I'm sorry, I am. Please go on." He said unconvincingly.

"Not you too, Mr. West."

Jim took a deep breath, shifting his weight and finally composing himself.

"It's sensory deprivation." Loveless said in a soft musing voice. "That's interesting, but annoying. Try to control yourself, Gordon."

Gordon hardly seemed to be breathing. Loveless' steps, a shift of rocks, a scraping, and the metal squeak of an unlit lamp, drew towards them.

Jim, wondering if he was being watched, tugged at the collar of his sopping and tattered shirt. He reached into his pockets and drew his hands back out, but Loveless said nothing regarding him. Finally he took the garment off, slowly undoing the buttons and laying it over his arm. "Friends?" He whispered into the darkness, the question was drowned out by Artemus' gasping breakdown and Loveless pouting demands that he cease.

"You know, I was going to do you a favor, Mr. Gordon. Just a small one mind you, but you aren't of as strong a prudence as I thought before. Disappointing, but not surprising…"

The pressure of cold fingers leaned into Jim's arm. He let the shirt slip away and smiled charmingly and, hopefully, in the right direction.

"What is this?" Loveless said, loudly. "What are you trying to do?"

"Bad! stop him!" Jim yelled, pointing.

Loveless yelped, "Oh, Gordon! Give those back! Fine. I have another set. Friends!" There was a pause, the hiss of many long muted, long lost, voices. "Friends?" Then Loveless began to scream.

A strong hand grabbed Jim's arm. At first Jim raised a fist, unsettled by violent echoes. "Don't hit me," Artie said, pulling him into a run and pushing goggles into Jim's hands at the same time. Jim awkwardly pulled them over his head with one hand and ran under his partner's guidance until he could see for himself, then skirted around Artemus and ahead to lead the way.

The screams and growls from behind were buried under a growing din. The ground, highlighted in green and black hues, was deteriorating beneath them. The walls were leaning and spilling silver-green streaks. "Oh no."

Rats, open-mouthed, ran over their boots, grabbing their pant legs as water washed over them and bubbled up from below. "Artie!" There's light, we're almost there! Get rid of the goggles." Jim tossed his over his shoulder, feeling the buzz of electricity on the damp air like the beginning of a storm. His eyes never left the vague glow ahead of them even as water spilled over their boots .

"But…" Fear of lit up bodies and exposed, glowing veins seemed stronger than fear of the dark then. Artemus ripped them from his face and sprinted, half wading, after his partner.

Outside it was night time; the sky was a deep but glowing blue. They shielded their eyes against the glare of the milky way and turned to watch water bubble up from the sloping cave between the rocks.

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There was a pond in place of a 300 hundred year old mystery and Artemus was the only one to mourn the loss. The dry grass was thankful for the water, but animals wouldn't get near it; it was bringing up the scent and taste of bodies. Artie pressed the end of his fountain pen to his lips and moved his eyes, distracted and shifting like a pendulum, away from the open volume on his work bench. The lamp light played caramel colored off his dark irises.

There was a quick knock on the door frame, although it wasn't closed. Artie flipped the book off his wrist and it closed with a ruffle of pages. "Hey, Jim." He looked over his shoulder, twice, then smiled. "Are we hosting a party?"

"No." Jim grinned, then laughed at Artie's surprised. The long necked bottles he held up, one in each fist, also shone in the lamp light.

"But I told you before," Artie said wrapping his fingers around one of them and drawing it to his chest, "I'm was a sad drunk, I'll probably cry the whole time and that won't be any fun for you, Jim."

"I don't think that's what you said."

"No? All right then." Artemus pushed past Jim on his way out of the lab, only pausing to pry the other bottle from Jim.

Whatever intellect, advanced beyond even Artemus' modern education and creative genius, was gone. It had led them to the brink of glory, and like any society before their time, to despair.

There was probably a lesson in that, Artie thought. Something like letting go.

Jim rested the other bottle against his hip and flipped the book open again. A solid shape had been closed within it and formed a mound among the pages. The circular panel of flaking green material looked black against the cream colored pages. He glanced at the notebook beside it but there was nothing but a scratched line at the top where Artie had checked his nib.

"Artie." He called, When did you have time to smuggle this? Jim changed his mind when he heard the pool balls clicking against each other as they were pushed into place.


End file.
